Something is Wrong with Me
I knew there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t stop drinking. I couldn’t even slow down my drinking. So no matter what I did, I kept drinking. When you listen to recovering alcoholic stories, that is a common theme – something is wrong with us.
The evidence certainly pointed in the direction that something was wrong with me. That was the message my brain sent me every time I couldn’t follow my attempts at decreasing my consumption. Which, of course, led me to drink more.
Because if there was something wrong with me, then I couldn’t do anything about it. Drinks for everyone! But mainly me. All the drinks for me! I am fucked up, and I can’t help myself! Woohoo!
The More You Drink
The more you drink, the more you know. No, that isn’t right. That is very, very wrong. Although my alcoholic brain liked to tell me that was true. No, the more I drank, the more I became convinced there was something wrong with me. I believed that partly because I couldn’t stop or even slow down.
The more I felt that way, the more isolating I became, not only with my drinking but with everything else. I shut down and didn’t let people in. I picked fights with my hubs. He is my safe person, so I was comfortable being mean to him. BTW that is not cool. I know that. Back then, I couldn’t stop myself from doing that either.
Addiction is a disease that can be treated. Please, if you or someone you love is struggling, please encourage them to seek professional help.
I recommend Online-Therapy.* Encouraging therapy is their first step in healing.
Recovering Alcoholic Stories
During all those years I was sliding further down the black hole of alcoholism, I was scared. I was so afraid of myself. I didn’t like the things I thought about, no matter what state I was in, sober or not.
This blog post isn’t the story of all the stupid things I did at the height of my alcoholism. Luckily I never hurt anyone, but I still could have. So no, instead, I am focusing on the recovery slide. Because for me, once I started down the path of healing, with therapy and medication, that became my slippery slope.
My story is one of many recovering alcoholic stories focusing on overall well-being. Something that I didn’t even realize I needed until I had it, and now I won’t let it go.
Descent into Recovery
I had forward momentum. The downside was it wasn’t a forward momentum into anything beneficial. No, my forward momentum was towards the end of many good things in my life, possibly including my life. But I used that momentum to push through the darkness.
And you know what happened? That darkness did not engulf me. I somehow slid through that darkness and came out on the other side.
Somehow, I was able to pull my head out of my ass long enough to do three things:
- Listen to my hubs when he intervened in my downward spiral
- Start and actually engage in therapy
- Start medication
I write “somehow” a lot. Because honestly, I don’t know what made me do any of those things. Somewhere inside myself, I knew I wasn’t who I wanted to be. Somewhere inside myself, I knew that alcohol was destroying me. Yes, to all of those things. But WHY? Why do I have that? Why was I able to do that?
I have no idea. I only know I did it, and now I keep doing it.
Someday in Recovery
Although I am looking forward to the day that I don’t have to be on guard for the whispers that one drink won’t kill me. I could have one. Sure, one drink won’t kill me. But it isn’t the one drink that I am afraid of. It is the subsequent drinks, days, weeks, and years that one drink will lead me down that path.
Actually, now that I think about that, one drink will kill me.